Bad Boy's Last Race

by Dallas Cole

He shakes his head. “In a park like mine, either you get knocked up or knock someone up and get sucked into the place like some kind of swampy morass. Or else you do like I did—get the fuck out of there as fast as you can, and set fire to the path behind you as you run. I left the very next year and haven’t looked back since.”

  “What about your mother?” I ask.

  Jagger presses his lips together. “Well, she’s somewhere else now, but trust me, her situation’s no better than it was before.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” I slide my hand into his and give it a squeeze—more carefully, this time. He grins and rubs his thumb over the ridge of my knuckles.

  “No need to be sorry,” he says. “I’ve got a good life now. And it’s getting better by the day.”

  I sink into his touch. I know the feeling. But I know how quickly it can end. But if all I have with Jagger is this one day, this one perfect getaway—then I intend to make it last and last.

  We reach our destination at sunset. Jagger wraps the Firebird up around a lengthy butte trail. At first it’s nothing but rocks and cacti, then suddenly, at the top, it gives way to a beautiful resort, spread across the butte’s top. A swimming pool and row of private cabins line one side, while the peak holds a restaurant and spa area. And beyond the private cabins stretches the endless high desert, framed in all directions with the jagged mountainsides.

  “Oh, my god.” I crane my neck out the window, taking in the incredible view of the sunset as we pass the pool. “Jagger, this is incredible.”

  “Glad you like it.” He runs his hand along my thigh.

  “But—it must be expensive.” I shrink back into my seat. “Are you sure this is all right?”

  He waves his hand. “It’s off-season. Plus, my buddy manages the grounds—he got me a killer deal. Seriously, they’re so hurting for guests this time of year, it was nothing. Plus, bonus, we’ve got the place to ourselves tonight.”

  “The whole place?” I peer over my sunglasses at him.

  “You heard me right.” He grins and parks the Firebird right in front of the cabins. “Go on, pick us out a winner. I’ll get our bags.”

  I walk around the pool toward the cabins, which are more like adobe huts carved into the face of the butte. I found one close enough to the pool for easy access, but that still looks out across the wide, sunburnt expanse of desert with the mountain caps in the distance. A little slice of heaven in the high desert, all our own.

  Warmth rushes through me as I take it in. Jagger doesn’t owe me a damned thing—especially not after all the trouble I’ve brought on him with Tyler and everything else. It’s too much. It’s perfect. I’m not used to being taken care of like this—truly cared for. Tyler always took care of me when it was for an audience and he could put on a show—fresh flowers when people were coming over; a new dress for going out to dinner to show me off. But this is different. This is just for us.

  Jagger drops our bags inside the private cabin, then joins me on the balcony, looking out across the desert. He stands behind me, hands to either side of mine on the railing, but it’s protective, not imprisoning. And in that moment, I know I’m his.

  I’m willing to fight for this.

  “You like it?” he asks. Shyly—like he thinks I might actually say no.

  I spin around in his arms and pull him in for a deep kiss. He is warmth and spice, like a comforting fire in winter. He is a good, safe kind of exciting, the kind that doesn’t have me fearing for my life. Just enough fun to laugh and look forward to the next adventure.

  He’s everything I want.

  “It’s perfect,” I whisper.

  Jagger grins. “Just like you.”

  After washing up and changing, I meet Jagger at a poolside dining table, complete with candles and a wooden arbor strung with lights. The lights twinkle like fairies in the inky dark of night. The waiter, who must be Jagger’s buddy, wheels a massive tray down for us from the mountaintop restaurant. “Trust me, view’s better down here,” he says. “Chef’s thrilled you two showed up, by the way. He likes cooking for two because he gets to make whatever the hell he wants.”

  “No pork, though,” Jagger says, and I laugh.

  His friend grins. “No pork.” Then he starts uncovering the trays and passing them around.

  A feast of southwestern delights appears before us—from tamales and rellenos to specialty ceviche and all the salsa verde I can eat. I try a little of everything, from a cornbread drenched in poblano mole to roasted honey-glazed jerk chicken. I’m trying not to stuff myself so I can actually swim and partake in . . . other activities . . . with Jagger later, but it’s a challenge.

  “Everything is to your liking, Doctor Gallagher?” Jagger asks, after polishing off his fourth enchilada. His stomach appears to be bottomless.

  I laugh. “Not Doctor yet. Maybe never.” I shrug. “I don’t know if I want my PhD.”

  “No? What do you want to do, then?”

  “I’m interested in therapy work—something like what I’m doing at the youth center, maybe, but more systematic.” I swirl a forkful of chicken in poblano sauce. “Maybe some research, too, to develop best practices for at-risk youths.”

  “That sounds perfect for you.” He grins and rubs his foot against my shin under the table. “You can do whatever you want, I’m sure.”

  “I guess I haven’t given it that much thought,” I admit. And it’s the startling truth. I haven’t thought much about my future—just chasing one day to the next, doing whatever came my way. I was too afraid to think much further ahead, especially when I was in Tyler’s grasp. And now I’m scared to start. Not while Tyler’s still out there.

  I force myself to smile back at Jagger. “What about you? Is racing cars what you always wanted to do?”

  Jagger laughs, his eyes dancing in the gorgeous purple sunset. “Not exactly. It’s not so far off, though, I guess.”

  “How so?” I ask.

  “Well, I’ve always been good with mechanical things—cars, appliances, whatever. Like I explained to you with the trailer park debacle—I can hotwire a car in no time.” He winks. “But it’s more than that. I’d ride dirt bikes with these other kids in the park. I prefer cars, though. Big, powerful, and a hell of a lot more impressive when you pull off a trick.”

  “And your mom never cared that you were off riding dirt bikes with all the local miscreants?” I ask.

  He lays his fork down and bends forward, linking his hands together. Some of his smile has faded, though he’s still got his Jagger ease about him. “Yeah, well, the thing about my mom . . .” He exhales. “She wasn’t what you might call an ‘active parent.’ Maybe you’ve got a fancier word for it in your therapy work.”

  I nod, pressing my lips together. I’d gathered as much, though I never wanted to pry.

  “She had a lot of boyfriends. Most of them dealers, all of them junkies, like her. She was always off with one guy or another, cooking up meth, dealing, doing whatever it took to get her next fix.”

  “I’m—I’m really sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

  Jagger waves his hand. “Please, don’t be. Honestly, it was the best bit of parenting she could have done for me.” He smiles sadly. “It gave me serious incentive to do whatever it took not to turn out like her.”

  “And how did that come about, then?” I ask.

  “I was fourteen years old, sneaking into the street races, hanging around garages, hoping to get some work. And that’s how I got mixed up with Drazic.” His smile turns deeper, more genuine. “He never gave me a handout—he made me work for every goddamned thing—but it was enough. I was able to get the hell out of the park. I ran away and never looked back. He kept me on the right track, or at least, as much as anyone could.”

  I laugh and nudge his knee with mine. “Sounds about right.”

  Jagger grins slyly. “I’m not saying I’m the best-behaved guy around—”

  “Ohh, really?” I laugh louder.


  He bats his eyes at me. “—but I’ve never gotten mixed up into anything like my mom was in. And I never will.”

  “Well, it worked,” I say. “You turned out perfectly, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Jagger reaches over the table and strokes the side of my cheek. “So did you.”

  Jagger’s friend comes around to clear our plates. “I’ll leave you two alone for the rest of the evening,” he says with a wink. “You’ve got the run of the place. If you need anything, just press the Call button in your cabin.”

  “I think we’ll be just fine.” Jagger grins at me. “Thanks, man. We’re even now.”

  The guy just smirks, then heads toward the main building.

  Jagger turns toward me with that mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Feel like trying out the hot springs?”

  I look down at the waterscape below us. I’d thought it was a swimming pool, but now I can see the steam rising off of it, crisp in the cool desert night. There are multiple pools cascading down the butte at different levels, each edged in natural rocks.

  “I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” I confess. “I would’ve brought one if I’d known.”

  “No suit? Oh, how fucking terrible.” He snaps open the buttons on his shirt and peels it off. “How the hell are you going to swim? It’s not like you can get in without clothes, or anything.”

  I eye him as he reaches for his belt buckle. “I think I’ll enjoy the show for a minute here.”

  Jagger yanks his belt out of its loops with a raise of his eyebrow. “Do I get one in return?”

  I smirk. “Depends.”

  “Yeah? On what?”

  I gesture for him to stand up. “On how good a show you give me.”

  He laughs, husky, and stands. Slowly, with a careful rocking of his hips, he slides his jeans down and steps out of them. He tugs the waistband of his boxer briefs forward with a wink, then turns around so his back is to me. Slowly, torturously, he eases them down, revealing the chiseled planes of his ass.

  It’s all I can do not to reach out and squeeze it.

  He turns back to face me, completely naked, his taut muscles gleaming in the starlight. I suck in my breath. He never ceases to amaze me—that flawless V of his abdomen, like an arrow pointing toward his cock. The sturdy ridges of his stomach. And those strong arms, always ready to hold me tight. I make an exaggerated show of licking my lips, but it isn’t so far from the truth. Jagger is even better than chocolate.

  He tilts his chin, bashful, and flutters his eyelashes at me. “Your turn?”

  “Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.” I stand up and ease my sweater down over one shoulder, then pull it up and tease it down the other shoulder.

  “Boo!” Jagger calls. “Take it off!”

  I laugh, yank my sweater overhead, and toss it in his face.

  “That’s more like it.” He peels the sweater away. “Show us your tits!”

  “Patience, patience . . .” I shimmy out of my knitted miniskirt, then do a spin to let him appreciate my lingerie. It isn’t fancy, but I think it’s cute—black cotton trimmed in lace. He whistles appreciatively, then with my back to him, I tug at my thong and let it drop.

  “Mmm. Now there’s a glorious sight.”

  I turn back toward him, unhook my bra, and slide it down my arms. Now we’re even. I strike a vogue pose, arms over my head, and let the moonlight dance along my skin.

  Jagger steps toward me and runs his hand over the curve of my stomach and hip. My skin tingles where he touches it, and I catch my lower lip in my teeth. God, he drives me wild. “I’m tempted to skip the hot springs,” he says. “This is hot enough.”

  I laugh, though I know the feeling. “After we came all this way?”

  “Ohh, fine.” He grins. “But no promises that I won’t be tempted to jump your bones right there in the fucking pool.”

  “I expect you to.” With a twirl of my fingers, I dart away from him and head down the steps to the largest spring.

  The water envelops me like a warm hug. Steam licks at my arms as I wade in, and the heat seeps into my muscles, unfurling every last bit of tension. For the first time in years, I feel completely free. Jagger wades in after me with an appreciative groan, then slides onto one of the submerged rock perches to stare out at the desert beyond us.

  “Great view and all,” he says, “but you’re still the loveliest thing out here.”

  I grin and shoot a wave of water his way.

  “I’m serious!” He laughs, and splashes me back, a hungry grin on his face.

  I slide onto the perch next to him and lean back against the rock wall. The stars are dazzling, and their reflection catches in the gentle rolling waves of the spring. Steam wisps around both our faces as I lean my head against Jagger’s shoulder. He slings his arm around me and strokes my arm.

  I go quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the soak and the view of the cold, parched desert beneath us. I want to bottle up this moment in time and keep it close to me forever. I don’t know what awaits us when we return to Ridgecrest, or what awful scheme Tyler’s going to try to pull next, but at least I’ll always have this moment. Can that be enough for one life? Maybe it can.

  I sigh and nestle deeper into Jagger’s embrace. I don’t even want to think about it. Every time I thought I could predict Tyler, he always came up with something worse to do to me—something way worse.

  “Hey.” He pulls me closer. “It’s going to be all right.”

  I tighten my jaw. “It’s okay. I’m going to savor this while we can.”

  “I’ve got an idea. Just need to run it by Drazic, okay?” Jagger strokes my cheek with his fingers. Whatever it is, it seems to burn in his chest, something he’s been holding in carefully. “You and I can head out west, far away from his reach. Just keep running.”

  “Oh, my god.” I flinch. “You would do that? Leave your family—I mean, your crew?” I don’t even know if I can do it. I ran from school and Tyler, yes, but to Darla and the only family I have left. Could I really ditch them all?

  “I—I think we could make it work. Drazic knows people all over the West. I can find places to race, make us a little money, and you can . . . I dunno, volunteer your services wherever we wind up.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for offering.” But I shake my head. He doesn’t know Tyler like I do. There is no running. There is no escape from Tyler. I’ve tried it all, and he keeps dragging me back. I twist my head and kiss Jagger’s temple. “Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay?”

  “Yeah.” Jagger smiles and looks at me so slyly it makes me fall for him all over again. “We can certainly do that.”

  He lowers his hand to cradle my waist, and nuzzles his nose into the hollow of my throat. I’m already halfway melted from the soothing springs, but his touch only melts me more. I cup my hand under his chin and guide his lips toward mine. His kiss burns through me like starlight and puts all my senses on alert. I want to drown in this sensation, let it swallow me up. I never want to forget.

  Jagger pulls me into his lap, facing him, and gazes into my eyes. His look is so intense, and yet so vulnerable, too. This is new for both of us—him being locked down and me being free. I want to make it perfect. Even if just for tonight, I want it to be right.

  “I love you, Sophie,” he whispers. So faint I’d almost miss it. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  I shiver runs through me, despite the heat. “I love you, too.”

  He takes me by the hand and leads me back to our cabin, our clothes tucked under our arms. And then his lips are on me, soft as pillows, hard as daggers, pressing against every hollow of my flesh. I toss my head back with a moan, savoring the feel of his mouth on me, as his tongue swirls around my breast and his hand swirls a narrow circle on my hip.

  Enough. I want him. I need him. I need this tonight.

  I shove him back against the bed and climb over him, straddling him. With a smirk, I reach down and tease the length of his erection beneath me.
“I’m all yours,” Jagger says, grinning back at me in the soft glow of the candles his friend must have lit for us.

  “Oh, I’m well aware.” I tighten my grip on his cock and give it a few quick pumps. “And I intend to do with you as I please.”

  Jagger sucks in through his teeth, and his shaft throbs in response.

  I angle my hips over him, then he shudders and groans as I ease myself onto him. Waves of pleasure course through me as our hips join, and I clench myself around him. “Fuck,” Jagger whispers, back arching beneath me. “Oh, fuck, yes, Sophie.”

  I bite my lower lip as he thrusts upward, slamming into me. His face hardens, concentrating, and he grabs onto my hips like handles as I ride on top of him. We move up and down, lost in the tides, and stars swim in my vision.

  “Come for me,” Jagger grunts. “Let me feel you.”

  His deep thrusts penetrate me, goading me toward climax. Hot white tears through me and I cry out into the night. Jagger bares his teeth with a snarl, straining, and I can tell he’s about to come, too. I give him one last squeeze, and savor the sound of his pleasure.

  Then slump forward, exhausted, content. Clutching at this moment. Wishing I could make it last for eternity.

  We leave the resort the next morning, driving with the high desert sun beating against the Firebird’s windows. Neither of us says much, but I’m relishing the quiet, my fingers linked through Jagger’s. The closer we get to Ridgecrest, though, the more I feel fear coil up tight in my stomach. I’m not ready to run the risk of facing Tyler again, and finding out what ridiculous stunt he’ll pull next. I can’t let him endanger Darla’s family again.

  I click on the radio to the classic rock station. Jagger flashes me a winning smile. “It’s going to be all right,” he tells me. Then joins me in belting out some old Iron Maiden and Judas Priest.

  We head toward downtown so Jagger can run by the shop, but as we weave closer along the streets, I catch a glimpse of flashing lights between the buildings. The tightness in my stomach intensifies, but I keep the smile fixed on my face. Jagger’s fingers clench around mine as he turns down the street for Drazic Muscleworks.